


My Sun Is Your Sun

by ForFighting



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dallas Stars, M/M, hurt/comfort/something, post playoff blues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForFighting/pseuds/ForFighting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first he thinks Jamie’s going to ignore him, or honestly is so lost in his thoughts that he can’t hear him. But then Jamie turns around, fixes his eyes on Tyler’s face, and the look in them takes all the breath out of his lungs. If Jamie tries to apologize, Tyler thinks, he just might lose it. And he’s honestly not even sure what form the losing it might take. He has to say something, he’s got Jamie’s attention and he’s got Jamie’s utterly empty gaze fixed on him, and he has to say something, anything. He doesn’t even know where to start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Sun Is Your Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I deal with my hockey teams breaking my heart - I write angst porn and spend hours reblogging pictures of them and crying. 
> 
> Title is from the Yeah Yeah Yeah's song "Despair" ([listen here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cvrjn_pF9tY))

Jamie sits in the locker room and stares at the floor, and he stays there long enough that Tyler honestly starts to worry about him. He stays until everyone’s gone, until most of the lights are off, until security comes by and says something about vacating the building before they lock it up. Tyler gets up from his seat across from Jamie, moves to tell the guard that they’ll just be a few minutes, and Jamie startles, like he wasn’t even aware Tyler was there until the movement shook him out of his trance.

Tyler leans against the door, tells the security guy that he needs some time. It takes a little convincing, but the guard looks over Tyler’s shoulder at Jamie, and that seems to do the trick.

“He gonna be okay?” 

Tyler sucks his top lip into his mouth, scraping his teeth over it.

“Hope so,” he says. “Look, if…just leave one of the doors propped, we’ll shut it on our way out, okay?”

The guard takes another look at Jamie, then sighs and nods.

“Don’t get me fired, kid,” he says, and walks off. Tyler watches him go, makes sure he’s really gone, then turns back to Jamie, who’s gotten up, gone over to his stall, and is looking at his own last name like those four letters hold some eternal weight he can’t fathom. Tyler crosses his arms.

“Jamie,” he says, quietly. At first he thinks Jamie’s going to ignore him, or honestly is so lost in his thoughts that he can’t hear him. But then Jamie turns around, fixes his eyes on Tyler’s face, and the look in them takes all the breath out of his lungs. If Jamie tries to _apologize,_ Tyler thinks, he just might lose it. And he’s honestly not even sure what form the losing it might take. He has to say something, he’s got Jamie’s attention and he’s got Jamie’s utterly empty gaze fixed on him, and he has to say something, _anything._ He doesn’t even know where to start.

“Thank you,” he blurts, and it wasn’t any of the things he was thinking about saying but it seems to be the right thing, because Jamie’s chin comes up a little and he frowns thoughtfully. 

“What?” he says, and it’s the first thing Tyler’s heard him say since after the interviews and speeches were over.

“Thank you,” Tyler says again. “Look, I know you’re…I know what that face means. I know you’re blaming yourself, and…don’t.” This is all very new territory for him. Tyler isn’t the one who calms people down, Tyler’s usually the one who needs reassuring, and Jamie is usually the one who gives that to him. He stops, because he doesn’t know what to say next, but Jamie’s eyes are searching, like he’s waiting to hear the rest. 

Tyler swallows hard, can’t come up with anything, and Jamie goes back to sitting down in front of his stall, which Tyler feels like has to be backwards movement in the process of pulling Jamie out of his shell of devastation and self-blame. 

“Jamie, hey, no, no,” he says, and he goes down into a squat, lowering himself between Jamie’s legs, resting his hands on Jamie’s knees, looking up at him. “You cannot sit here all night and blame yourself, okay? I know it sucks, I know it does, but you were _amazing_.”

He’s surprised at how steady his own voice was. Before tonight, he tried pretty hard not to let himself think about losing, about how he would feel. Tried to focus on the game for what it was, to not think about the possible outcomes and how he’d take them. But when those thoughts had crept in, none of his predictions for this scenario involved _him_ being the rational one. Jamie’s been Tyler’s voice of reason since he got to Dallas, Jamie’s kept him grounded, and Tyler feels in so far over his head that he almost wants to get up and leave, run off before he can say or do anything dumb.

It’s in the middle of thinking all that, in the middle of wondering how he’s going to fix this, that he feels Jamie’s hand in his hair and that…well, that’s new. Jamie’s fingers are gentle, like he’s mapping out the surface of Tyler’s skull, touching just hard enough to feel what’s there without leaving any lasting impression. Tyler forces his eyes upward to meet Jamie’s, and Jamie is looking down at him with a question in his eyes that Tyler never really managed to ask himself.

“I wanted this for you,” Tyler says, and that’s when his voice goes a little hoarse and he knows he’s going to have to finish the thought before it gives out on him, “more than I wanted it for me, do you understand that?”

Jamie shakes his head. Tyler isn’t sure whether that means that he disagrees with the idea or that no, he didn’t know Tyler felt that way.

“Tyler,” Jamie says, in that soft, feather-light way he has. It’s gentle, it’s a contradiction, because everything else about Jamie is muscle and strength, but his voice is like a thin, impossibly strong thread that’s held Tyler to the earth more times than he can count. “You know how hard we all worked for this. You know.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says, nodding emphatically, “Jamie, I do. We all did. And we did fucking _great_.”

“I don’t want…” Jamie says, but he doesn’t finish it. Tyler gives his left knee a squeeze, encouragingly. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“Regret _what_?” He shakes his head. “The shots I missed? Because there were plenty of those, but…”

“ _No,_ ” Jamie says, so vehemently that Tyler can feel the muscles in his legs tense under his fingertips. “Ty, no. That’s what I don’t want. I don’t want you to regret this game, I don’t want you to regret this team.”

And honestly, that’s when it hits Tyler that Jamie isn’t worked up just over the loss, over the end of the season, he’s worked up because he thinks he let _Tyler_ down. Tyler nearly chokes on that, nearly stumbles over his own tongue trying to come up with some way to tell Jamie how he is just…a million miles off base.

“Fuck,” he says, eloquently. “Is that what…Jamie, that’s not even…I don’t, I couldn’t.”

“I know you didn’t want to come here,” Jamie says, and Tyler can’t believe that this is the first time they’ve really talked about this, because he’s known for _months_ that Jamie’s been trying to prove to him that Dallas really is a pretty great place, that this is a pretty great team he’s a part of. But he thought that he’d laid those fears to rest, well, months ago, and he’s staggered by the fact that Jamie’s still holding onto them. “I’m sorry.” Jamie finishes, finally getting out the words Tyler’s been trying to keep him from saying.

Tyler looks up at Jamie, meets his eyes again.

“I _love_ it here,” he says, earnestly. “I love this team. And I…”

The natural progression of that trio of sentences, he realizes, was going to be that he loved _Jamie_ , which, yeah, that part is true, but he’s sitting between Jamie’s legs with his hands on Jamie’s knees and it just feels a little too intimate to say something like that without it being taken the wrong way. So instead, he just keeps his eyes on Jamie’s.

“I’m not letting you apologize for anything,” he finishes.

Looking back, Tyler never will quite be able to tell when the moment shifts from comfort to desire, whether it’s when Jamie’s hand, the one that’s been in Tyler’s hair, moves to the side of his face instead. Or whether maybe it’s when Jamie’s thumb brushes over his lower lip, when Jamie blinks slowly, then parts his lips to breathe in like he can’t quite get enough oxygen through his nose. 

“Are we good?” Tyler asks, and he’s almost a little ashamed at how breathless he sounds himself. Jamie nods. Then his hand is sliding around behind his head, fingers cradling the back of Tyler’s neck, pulling him up to meet Jamie as he leans down towards him.

He swears a hundred years pass between the moment he realizes Jamie’s about to kiss him and the moment Jamie’s lips actually find his. But when it happens, it’s so _completely_ worth the wait. Jamie’s mouth is hot against his, but gentle. Kissing Jamie, Tyler thinks, is nothing like playing hockey with Jamie - he takes his time with it, slow and careful, lips moving over Tyler’s as he tilts his head into the kiss, and then finally, _finally_ , pressing his tongue into Tyler’s mouth. Tyler’s eyes slide shut, and he hums into the kiss before breaking away because he’s about to fall backward onto the floor. He stands up, grabbing Jamie’s arm to pull him up with him, and Jamie goes easily, his eyes never leaving Tyler’s face.

Tyler reaches up, pulls off the hat Jamie’s wearing backwards, throws it somewhere into someone’s stall, and puts his hands to the sides of Jamie’s face to kiss him again repeatedly, urgently. Jamie’s fingers are at Tyler’s sides, pressing into his skin through his t-shirt, holding him against his own body insistently. 

“When did you…” is all Tyler manages, and Jamie’s fingers tighten into his ribs. 

“When did I what?”

“Is this _new_?” Tyler asks, and Jamie’s brows knit together in thought.

“No,” he admits. Tyler’s breath catches in his throat a little. 

“How long?”

“Forever,” says Jamie, and even though they both know it’s hyperbole, they also both know exactly what it means. 

“Could’ve said something,” Tyler points out, and Jamie sighs, leaning in to mouth at the side of his neck.

“Not really,” he says. "It wouldn't have been…good."

Tyler strongly disagrees with that, and his dick is starting to make a pretty evident protest as well, but he feels like he has to make a rational argument.

“Jamie, why?” he demands, “I would have…Why the hell not?”

Jamie is quiet for a moment, his fingers still tracing over Tyler's sides, one hand sliding around, splayed out at the small of Tyler's back. 

"Because when you came here, you were…"

Tyler lets out a little sigh. 

"I wasn't as fucked up as everybody thought I was.”

"That's not what I meant," Jamie protests calmly. "Even if I was sure you'd go for it, I didn't want you to want to be here for the wrong reasons. And if you weren't....interested, I didn't want to be the reason you ran out of here begging for another trade." 

“I want to be here,” Tyler says, “Jamie, what do I have to say to convince you of that? I _want to be here_. I want to be on this team. I want _you._ ”

Jamie closes his eyes, and he looks for all the world like Tyler’s lifted a physical weight off of him. 

“Did I never say any of that?” Tyler asks, softly. “I know we never talked about…” He waves a hand between them, gesturing. “But…did you really still think I didn’t want to be here?”

“I hoped you did.” Jamie says sincerely. 

“Do you want me to tell you how much I want this,” Tyler asks, “or do you want me to show you?”

Jamie’s eyes go dark and wide, and he swallows hard enough that Tyler can see it.

“Show me,” he says hoarsely. Tyler leans in and kisses him again insistently, until he can feel Jamie’s chest heaving against him and he pulls away, knowing he must be at least as flushed as Jamie is because he feels just as breathless as Jamie looks. 

He pulls Jamie’s shirt over his head, hardly stopping to take in the skin that’s revealed. He’s seen all of it before, after all, that’s not new. What’s new is being able to touch, starting at Jamie’s shoulders, running his hands down over his chest, his own breath catching a little at the way he can _see_ the muscles in Jamie’s arms flex when Tyler’s fingers brush over his nipples. He feels a surge of pride in his gut - because that’s him, he did that, made Jamie’s whole large, solid frame shudder with just his fingertips. And he’s going to take Jamie down to nothing and build the pieces back up in the order they’re supposed to be in. 

Tyler’s pretty sure that tonight, he’d do anything for Jamie, wouldn’t even argue, but he doesn’t know what Jamie wants or if they’re both too worn out physically and emotionally to do much at all. He holds Jamie at arm’s length, wonders how far Jamie will let him go, how far he wants to take this. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Tyler says, and Jamie goes down onto his knees so fast that Tyler’s almost worried he hits the ground too hard. Jamie leans into him, fingers grasping at the cloth of Tyler’s pants, open mouth playing at the line of Tyler’s erection through it. And that, that wasn’t the plan at _all_ , he was going to take care of Jamie, but it’s really hard to argue with the wet heat of Jamie’s mouth against him through his sweatpants.

“Jamie,” Tyler says, his voice cracking a little on the first syllable, “wait, I want to…”

“I want to do this for you,” Jamie’s voice is rough too, and Tyler’s eyes slide shut, because Jamie doesn’t even pull away entirely to talk and he can feel the vibration of the words against his dick. But…

“Jamie, no, look, I said I wasn’t letting you apologize, and I’m _definitely_ not letting you give me an apology blow job either.”

Jamie looks skeptical, his hands resting on Tyler’s hips. 

“I wanted…” he starts again, and Tyler puts a hand over his mouth. 

“I know. Jamie, I know. We all wanted. And we’re gonna want it again next season, and we’re never going to stop wanting it, even when we get it.”

“ _When_ we get it.” Jamie echoes quietly. 

“Yeah. When.” Tyler runs both hands through Jamie’s hair, then gives it a little tug and Jamie stands back up. “And you know, I was thinking tonight sucked pretty bad, but now…I’m thinking it’s starting to look up.”

Jamie finally smiles, and Tyler feels a surge of relief wash over him, suddenly realizing how much he needed to see a little light back in Jamie’s eyes. Jamie’s hands are playing at the waistband of Tyler’s pants, and it’s distracting, but Tyler tries to keep his focus just long enough to say what he needs to say.

“It’s exactly like you said. Next year, the year after…We got this.”

Jamie grabs a fistful of Tyler’s shirt in one hand and drags him back in for a kiss that’s nothing like the gentle, tentative kisses they were exchanging a few minutes earlier. It’s hard and fast and dirty, Jamie’s tongue sliding over Tyler’s teeth and into his mouth, demanding and desperate, and a surprised little groan escapes the back of Tyler’s throat before he ever realizes it. Suddenly, he begins to think that Jamie kisses _exactly_ like he plays hockey - the delicate stuff is only to start with, when he’s not sure, and then he just…goes for it. Tyler, as always, goes right along with him.

He kisses Jamie back with all the passion he has (and it’s a lot, given how long he’s been suppressing the urge to do any of this), and he doesn’t stop. He takes little breaths here and there in between, lowering his head to breathe into the curve of Jamie’s neck, inhale him, feel the rise and fall of Jamie’s chest against his, but then he’s back to moving his mouth along Jamie’s jaw, back to his lips. 

It takes a few minutes, but he can feel the exact moment when the balance between them goes back to normal. He knows it when it happens because Jamie makes a noise into his mouth that can really only be described as a growl, and his hand comes up to grab at the short strands of Tyler’s hair again, tugging a little too hard. He dips his head, bites at the hollow of Tyler’s throat, and yeah, Jamie’s definitely back in charge, Tyler thinks, utterly relieved by that realization.

“Ah…” he breathes, his head tilting back easily into the grasp of Jamie’s hand, eyes fluttering shut at the sharp pressure of Jamie’s teeth scraping over the sensitive skin of his neck. Then Jamie’s backing him up, until they hit the wall by the door, Tyler’s shoulders impacting the hard surface almost painfully. Jamie pulls away just long enough to make sure he didn’t push too hard, then he’s back up against him, crowding into Tyler’s space, pressing what feels like every inch of his body against Tyler’s and it’s still not enough. 

Tyler rocks his hips into Jamie’s, his fingers moving frantically over the bare skin of Jamie’s back like he can pull Jamie into him somehow. And fuck, yeah, that’s what he wants, wants Jamie inside of him, but he knows that’s not happening because neither of them have the patience for that, not tonight, not when they’re already so exhausted. 

“Jamie,” he says, gasping for a breath on the edge of the word, “I’m…”

Jamie reaches down, hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Tyler’s sweatpants, tugs them down to Tyler’s thighs. He steps back slightly, takes a minute to look, and Tyler somehow feels oddly self-conscious and indescribably turned on all in the same moment. 

“Don’t just look at it…” he protests, his voice thick. Jamie holds a hand up in front of his face, and it takes Tyler’s desire-clouded mind a few seconds to realize why. He spits into the palm of Jamie’s hand, and apparently that does something for Jamie because he makes a noise that sends a surge of blood straight between Tyler’s leg, his dick twitching just as Jamie wraps his hand around it, working it up and down, watching Tyler closely like he’s gauging his reactions. 

He doesn’t need to worry, Tyler thinks, letting his head fall back against the wall with a moan. He’s got Jamie’s hands on him and honestly, he’s probably going to last all of five minutes at best anyway. 

“You gotta let me touch you,” he says, his hands sliding up Jamie’s back, then back down again to rest on Jamie’s ass. “Jamie, please. C’mon.”

Jamie groans (Tyler makes a mental note that begging is apparently a thing). He takes that as encouragement as he moves one hand to squeeze Jamie through his pants, then works his fingers under the edge and thrusts them down through the hair there, taking Jamie’s dick into his hand. 

“Fuck, Ty…” Jamie breathes. Tyler thrusts into the tight grasp of Jamie’s hand, his breath coming a little quicker. “That’s it,” Jamie urges, and his tone is just as genuine and proud as it is when he praises Tyler for scoring or for feeding him a nice pass. 

“Jamie,” Tyler chokes out, and once he says Jamie’s name it’s like he can’t stop saying it, he lets his head go forward up against Jamie’s shoulder and he’s rocking into Jamie’s well-timed movements as he says his name over and over again, like he can somehow show Jamie exactly how incredible he thinks he is by making him hear his own name enough times. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…” 

Jamie thrusts against Tyler’s hand, which is still wrapped around his dick, although Tyler’s too far gone at this point to be doing much with it, and moans, the sound loud in Tyler’s ear from where he’s resting his head against Jamie’s collarbone. And that’s it, that’s all it takes, before his body tightens, going still and tense against Jamie’s as he moans quietly into Jamie’s shoulder and comes between them, over Jamie’s hand and probably onto his own shirt and Jamie’s bare stomach.

The groan Jamie lets out then is so much, so loud, that Tyler feels his heart give a little lurch in his chest, in the midst of the erratic, desperate beating it’s already doing. Hearing Jamie make sounds like that…it’s not something he ever expected he’d get to do. As soon as his head starts to clear a little and he starts to come down, he realizes that his hand is somewhere on Jamie’s hip, and Jamie’s thrusting against him, his dick dragging over the soft skin of Tyler’s stomach and the line between his body and his left leg. Tyler moves to try to get his hand back around Jamie again, but Jamie catches his wrist with fingers still slick with Tyler’s own come, holding the hand between them at waist height.

“What?” Tyler says, confused.

“Get on your knees,” Jamie says hoarsely, and _yeah_ , Tyler is more than okay with Jamie telling him what to do. He tugs his pants back up, then goes down, his other hand never leaving Jamie’s body, sliding down the length of Jamie’s side, over his ribs, his hip, down to his thigh where he lets it rest as he gets onto his knees.

“Like this?” he asks, and Jamie nods.

“Yeah.” Jamie lifts his own hand up, drags it through the rest of Tyler’s come on his stomach. Then, as Tyler watches him, he grabs himself with that same hand, slicking it up and down over his dick, eyes never leaving Tyler’s.

And yeah, Tyler _just_ came and there’s no way he’s getting it up again that fast, but _fuck_ , if anything could get him there again it’d be the sight of Jamie, tongue between his lips, looking down at Tyler as he jerks himself off in slow, even strokes. For a minute or two, Tyler isn’t sure whether Jamie wanted him on his knees just to have him there, or maybe to come on his face, but after a few seconds, Jamie leans forward, his free hand coming up to curve around the back of Tyler’s head, guiding himself towards Tyler’s mouth.

Tyler opens up easily, eagerly, taking the head of Jamie’s cock into his mouth, encouraged by the little moan that Jamie makes on the edge of a forced exhale when Tyler’s tongue slides around him. 

“Tyler…” Jamie breathes, and Tyler looks up at him through his eyelashes, which clearly does things for Jamie because he clenches his jaw and the hand in Tyler’s hair tightens. “I don’t know if I can…”

Tyler pulls back for a minute, not sure what it is Jamie isn’t sure about - whether he can last long? That doesn’t seem to matter, given that Tyler’s already passed that mark. Whether he can…what?

“What?” he says, licking his lips desperately, still tasting himself, salty on the back of his tongue. Jamie holds him there, looking down at him, and Tyler feels totally exposed, like Jamie’s looking right into his soul and Tyler totally forgot to clean house before he let him in. Like Jamie can just look right at his face and see absolutely everything in him, every hope and dream and disappointment and the bitter, bitter grief from the loss, and he doesn’t _want_ Jamie to see that.

“I don’t know if I can finish,” Jamie says, uncertainly, and Tyler understands. After a game like that, after the outcome, he’s suddenly surprised they even got this far. But as much as he understands it, he also refuses to accept it.

“Switch places,” he says, and it’s not an order, just a suggestion that Jamie goes along with easily, taking Tyler’s place up against the wall as Tyler shifts around on his knees in front of him. “C’mon. Let it go, let me…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, just leans in and takes Jamie back into his mouth, deeper this time, one hand coming up to wrap around the base of Jamie’s dick, working him in time with his mouth as he starts to move. Jamie makes a little broken sound that cuts straight to Tyler’s heart, makes his own breath catch in his throat, and he whines.

He can feel the sound vibrate through his own lips, and he knows Jamie feels it too, because Jamie’s head goes back against the wall and his hips move forward. Tyler moves with it, doesn’t let Jamie thrust too deep until he’s ready. He rests his other hand on Jamie’s thigh, fingertips smoothing the soft hair there as he takes him deep, drawing a long moan out of Jamie as his dick hits the back of Tyler’s throat.

Tyler wishes desperately he could say something, tell Jamie all the things he’s thinking, reassure him, but his mouth is busy. And then he realizes that Jamie’s talking anyway, stroking his hands through Tyler’s hair, both of them dragging through his hair over and over again as Jamie’s eyes go shut and he lets go.

“Tyler, fuck, that’s good…” Jamie gasps, and Tyler isn’t about to stop, not with the reactions he’s getting. “Want to fuck you, want to open you up and get inside you, take you for hours…” 

Distantly, Tyler is totally aware that ‘hours’ probably isn’t realistic, and that neither of them are going to be doing much physically for the rest of the night after this anyway, but his realistic side does absolutely nothing to temper the fire that Jamie’s words send down his spine. He moans, and Jamie’s hips jerk forward again, and this time, Tyler just takes it, opens his jaw a little further and tilts his head to take it. Jamie’s hands are grasping mindlessly in his hair, catching and tugging at the short strands, and he’s groaning pretty much a steady stream of little sounds mixed with Tyler’s name here and there.

When Jamie comes, it’s on the edge of a broken breath as he holds Tyler’s head close against him. Tyler doesn’t protest - he keeps moving as Jamie comes into his mouth, his fingertips digging into the skin of Jamie’s thigh probably a little too hard. Jamie doesn’t complain, he’s too far gone, he just rides out his orgasm with little thrusts until finally he slumps back against the wall.

Tyler sits back onto his heels, catching his breath, licking his lips, swallowing as he watches Jamie for signs that he’s okay. It takes a few minutes, but Jamie finally opens his eyes and looks down at him as he tugs his pants back up.

“Get up, get up,” Jamie says earnestly, and Tyler gets to his feet, wincing a little at the ache in his knees. Jamie wraps an arm around Tyler’s waist and pulls him in close against himself, both arms holding him tight. 

“Let’s get out of here?” Tyler asks, after a minute or two. Jamie nods against the side of his head, and lets him go. They don’t really say anything after that, there aren’t any explanations or assurances, promises that this is the start of something, just easy silence. They don’t _need_ to say anything. They clean up quietly, exchanging glances here and there, mostly because Tyler's still looking for reassurances that Jamie's not still blaming himself. Jamie pulls his shirt back on, and Tyler finds his things, slinging his bag over his shoulder and waiting by the door as Jamie finishes up.

They step out into parking garage a few minutes later. Tyler kicks the doorstop out of the way and lets the door swing shut behind them. Then he hooks a finger through Jamie’s as they make their way to Jamie’s car and climb inside. He assumes they’re headed for Jamie’s place, but it doesn’t really matter where they’re going because they have time, a lot of time. 

Jamie puts down the windows as he pulls out onto the empty street, and the heat of the day is long gone, the slow rush of air through the window cool on Tyler’s sweat-dampened skin. He reaches over, lays a hand on top of Jamie’s over the gear shift, and Jamie smiles, teeth flashing white in the lights of the city. Tyler squeezes his hand.

It feels like home, Tyler realizes, and come next season, it still will.


End file.
